Simon Says
by Eye of Fire
Summary: Just your average mugging gone wrong.


When he'd woken up that morning, he hadn't expected to get jumped by some thugs. Yet there he was, back against a dumpster in some back alley staring down two guys much more impressive in the physique department than he could ever be. And his fortune cookie the night previous had said something about good luck finding him? Last time he went to that chain.

"Alright little man, we're in need of some cash and you happen to be our good samaritan for the day," said the one on the left as he cracked his knuckles for effect, though the smoke coming from his mouth was more alarming than anything his fists could threaten. He looked like he got into fights on a regular basis, if the bruises and burn marks on his forearms were any indicator. The man was short but solidly built; had the look of a body builder.

"So here's the deal: you give us your wallet nice and slow and we won't have to leave your body for the cops to find in this dumpster," said the man on the right, a complete opposite to his friend; thin as a rail and lanky to an almost awkward degree, clothes a couple sizes too big that barely managed to cling to his slim frame. Holding his hand out for the wallet, Simon noticed a hole in his palm and his mind began to wonder what could come out of it.

Looking from one man to the other, he sighed and brushed off his jacket as he straightened up off of the dumpster. His back was going to be sore for the next couple of days given how hard he'd hit the unforgiving metal of the bin, he just knew it. "Gentlemen, please, you don't have to do this. We can all just go our separate ways and forget this ever happened, okay?" Giving them both the most affable smile he could afford, he held out his hand and placed it in the offered one. "I mean, I'll be honest, I've got like twelve bucks on me tops. That's six bucks for each of you? Is that what you're really looking for?"

The fist was in his face before he had time to recoil and he was down on the trash strewn asphalt, blinking stars from his eyes as he was roughly picked back up. "We don't take kindly to smartasses around these parts. Now I suggest you cough up whatever money you've got so my friend here doesn't leave more than a charred pile of bones when we're through with you."

"Right, gotcha." Patting down his jeans, he made a show of looking for his wallet before, with a sigh, he pulled it out of his back pocket. "You can check it, it's all in there."

The thug not holding him up snatched the leather wallet from his hand and was quick to open it, only to find that the license and the person they were mugging were two different people. When he looked back up, the guy they were holding up (literally) was smiling despite the bruising already swelling his cheek. "What're you happy about?" he demanded.

"I'm happy because I just remembered who's wallet that is. Should've left that in the back of her car, but hey, I liked it. But I liked the sound of her screams even more." Shrugging with his hands, he leveled his gaze at the man holding him, his eyes flickering through colors at an alarming speed. "Simon Says let me go."

"What're you, high? He's not gonna let you go. Right, Carlos?" scoffed the shorter man as he thumbed through the stolen wallet, not really paying attention to what was happening.

It took a moment, but when the grip on his jacket slackened, he knew he had him. "Maybe that fortune cookie was right," he said as he was set back onto the ground. Rubbing his cheek with a wince, he worked his jaw for a moment to see if anything was broken or not. "Normally I'd kill you for this kind of behavior, but I'm running late to an appointment, so I don't have time to give this my personal touch." Looking into his thrall's eyes he pointed to the other man. "Simon Says to kill him. I want you to get creative with your Quirk."

"What're you blathering on about now?" Looking up from their admittedly lackluster score, the shorter man (Simon had decided to call him Smokey) found his friend's palm square in the center of his face. His eyes widened in shock before, with the sound of decompressing air, a neat hole was left where his nose and lips had been clean through his head.

Silence reigned for a moment before the body fell bonelessly to the ground in a heap. Crouching down next to Smokey's corpse, Simon rubbed his chin in thought, wondering how the cut had been made so cleanly. "Well, I did say be creative, so points for that I suppose. Guessing your Quirk is some kind of vaccum? Would explain the pop." Looking up at the stone stiff Carlos, he couldn't help but smile. "Simon Says dispose of the body. Make sure no one sees you. Then, when you're done with that, Simon Says go home and do the same thing to the closest person you love."

Reaching into the dead man's pockets, he quickly found a cellphone (a flip phone of all things) and pocketed it. "Tonight, around midnight, Simon Says call this chump's phone and tell me how your Quirk works. When you finish, Simon Says to end your own life with your Quirk."

The result was almost immediate. Once Carlos had started to use his Quirk to summarily erase the other man's body, Simon knew his other commands would stick. That definitely put a smile on his face before he chanced a glance at his watch. "Damnit, I'm running late!" Not giving the dead man walking another thought, he took off down the alley at a brisk jog, his mind already on the tailor he had to see about a suit.


End file.
